


Territorial Encroachment

by Autaria



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Clone Wars (2003) - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: 5 Times, 5+1 Things, Anakin cannot take it any more, Canon-Typical Violence, Happy Ending, Jealousy, M/M, Pining, Possessive Behavior, This is MY Master MINE, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:54:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24285427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Autaria/pseuds/Autaria
Summary: Anakin doesn’t know when all this started, but he’s sick and tired of all their enemies claiming Obi-Wan to be theirs when Obi-Wan is clearly karking his, dammit.Or: 5 times Anakin's heard other people tell Obi-Wan "you're mine", and the one time he says it.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 38
Kudos: 420





	1. Ventress

Everybody has been telling Anakin that it was normal for a Padawan to have a crush on their Master, especially when their Master was _the_ Obi-Wan Kenobi, the smoking hot Jedi Knight who had, at age twenty-five, defeated a Sith Lord in one-on-one combat.

“Big deal,” Ferus Olin had snorted drunkenly, when Anakin had finally plucked up enough courage to confess his shameful secret one night after he’d downed four shots of Corellian brandy. “I had a crush on Master Tachi when I was fifteen.” 

“It’s just a phase,” Jax Pavan had agreed, pouring Anakin another shot. “You’ll see, it’ll be gone within a few months.” 

“I’ve liked him for almost a year now,” Anakin had protested, his cup sloshing dangerously as he swayed from side to side.

“Well, who _wouldn’t_ have a crush on Master Kenobi?” Tru Veld exclaimed. “Everyone likes him! He’s _hot!_ ”

Anakin had been surprised nobody had reacted strongly to it, especially since he was pretty sure it went against the tenets of the Jedi Code that Master Kenobi so revered. Of course he’d never admit it to Master Kenobi himself, however. Obi-Wan was a stickler for the rules, and the only thing Anakin was sure he would get out of confessing his feelings was a long lecture on how attachments were forbidden. Besides, he’d never reciprocate Anakin’s feelings, anyway. In the six long years that Obi-Wan had taken him as a Padawan and raised him, his Master’s actions had never hinted at anything more than a professional Master-Padawan relationship. What would he see in a scruffy little boy from Tatooine, anyway? 

Anakin slowly began to notice the way his heart pounded when his Master smiled at him after another mission successfully completed, the way butterflies formed in his stomach whenever his Master told him he was proud of him, and the way his palms got sweaty when Obi-Wan stood _so damn close_ to him such that their bodies were practically pressing against each other when his Master wanted to correct his Ataru form stance. Fearful that one day these forbidden feelings might just _accidentally_ project themselves across their training bond, Anakin spent many meditation sessions building up his shields till they were rock-solid and infallible, till Obi-Wan noticed how much more often he spent meditating and actually got worried.

Jax Pavan had said these feelings would eventually pass, _dammit!_

It had only gotten worse after Anakin had been knighted. Now that Obi-Wan had been promoted to the Council and Anakin’s braid had been snipped off, many of the other Knights were casually asking when Obi-Wan would take another Padawan. The first time Anakin had heard Master Luminara Unduli casually ask if Obi-Wan had recently attended the younglings’ sparring sessions to see which one would be worthy of the Padawan mantle, Anakin’s stomach had churned with an unfamiliar ugly feeling. 

Jealousy.

How _dare_ Obi-Wan think of taking another? Wasn’t he good enough? Sometime in the waning years of him being Obi-Wan’s Padawan, Anakin had sworn to himself to be the _best_ Padawan Obi-Wan could have ever hoped for, so that all other Padawans would be ruined for Obi-Wan. He couldn’t imagine another young boy or girl calling _his_ Master theirs, and for a moment his vision turned red.

Luckily, Obi-Wan had merely shook his head and politely declined with a smile, chuckling that it would take him a while to recover from training Anakin first, and Anakin’s heart grew lighter. 

Maybe Obi-Wan wouldn’t notice, but Anakin found himself expressing his affection toward his Master in his actions. Bringing Obi-Wan a cup of tea first thing in the morning, making sure it was steeped at the temperature his Master liked. Keeping his droid parts away instead of leaving them scattered around their apartment every time he knew Obi-Wan would be returning back from a mission. The light touches to his shoulders and hands, that could easily be mistaken as friendly and nothing more. 

Even after being made a Knight, the number of missions they’d been sent on together hadn’t declined, so Anakin was thankful for that. The Council recognized that the success rates of a mission were much higher when there was _both_ Skywalker and Kenobi on the job, and so far no other Jedi pair had been able to match up, so Anakin found himself seeing Obi-Wan just as often as when they’d been Master and Padawan. 

The only difference after being knighted was that Obi-Wan now treated him as a friend, not just a mentee, even though every-so-often he would slip into one of his lectures. Anakin took pride in the fact that Obi-Wan never confided in others like he did to Anakin, or joked around as much as he did with Anakin. Their chemistry together also far surpassed any of Obi-Wan’s other temporary partnerships with other Knights, and all these only served to convince Anakin that they were _right_ for each other. The concept of soulmates didn’t exist in Jedi lore, but surely if they did, Obi-Wan would be Anakin’s. 

Being thrown together on missions also meant that more often than not Anakin’s ugly emotions would resurface. This was especially so every time they found themselves on one of those _boring_ non-combat diplomatic missions, which Anakin had absolutely grown to hate. Not just because of the severe lack of action and because some politicians could put a Sarlacc to sleep, but also because it seemed that _every karking time_ a female senator or princess - and it had even happened with a prince once - would throw themselves at Obi-Wan or try to get him to engage in some…post-negotiation activities. 

And of course the blasted man was oblivious to all these attempts. Anakin had never seen Obi-Wan express anything other than platonic love for his friends, so he couldn’t be sure exactly which way Obi-Wan swung. Still, he took great pleasure in chasing away all these suitors behind Obi-Wan’s back, telling them that Obi-Wan was a Jedi and his loyalty lay with the Order and its Jedi Knights.

Even when they were a full year into the Clone Wars and even when Anakin had been (unwillingly!) assigned his own Padawan, he still found himself pining. 

Ahsoka was a feisty Togrutan, young and - was it possible? - even more reckless than he. Mentoring and training her took up a lot of his own time, and Anakin found himself using what little spare time he had to make lesson plans and coach her in her lightsaber forms. He would have thought it would stop him from _always thinking_ about Obi-Wan, but often Anakin found himself distracted when watching Ahsoka practice her katas, his mind drifting to his former Master and wondering what Obi-Wan was doing. Obi-Wan still hadn’t taken on another Padawan on his own, the Clone Wars taking up much of his time, so Anakin was grateful for that. The familiar twinge of jealousy curled itself up in his stomach, but he forced himself to will it away. 

It had been _years_ of this, and Anakin suspected it wasn’t just a stupid little infatuation like Ferus had suggested. 

Anakin Skywalker was in love.

\---

They’d chased Ventress deep into the lush Alderaanian jungles. It was hot and humid and Anakin cursed his standard-issue Jedi robes for being so _goddamn_ thick, causing him to sweat buckets and slowing him down considerably. Why couldn’t Ventress have attempted to assassinate Bail Organa in winter?

He was just slightly ahead of Obi-Wan, the Force guiding him to avoid ditches and large tree limbs. The rustling in front of him that had been Ventress’ footfalls on the leaf-littered ground had stopped a few minutes ago, and now they came to a fork in the forest.

“Split up,” Obi-Wan commanded, picking a path arbitrarily and rushing ahead without even waiting for Anakin to respond. 

Anakin wanted to shout at him that _no,_ why split up when they ought to be finding her _together?_ But he ignored his brain screaming at him and obeyed Obi-Wan’s instructions, running down the other path that Obi-Wan hadn’t picked. 

They’d destroyed Ventress’ cruiser earlier, and the Senator’s private hangar was on lockdown, leaving her with no way off-planet. This would be a prime opportunity for them to capture the assassin and possibly get her to reveal Count Dooku’s location, Anakin knew. But Ventress was fast and slippery _and_ she had two lightsabers. Surely their chances of capturing her would be much better if they hadn’t split up. 

_”Sithspit!”_

Anakin’s path had come to a dead end, a tall, looming cliff blocking his way, and no Ventress in sight. Anakin immediately started running back, cursing at the slippery Dathomirian, his heart growing cold with the realization that if Ventress wasn’t _here,_ then she could only be with Obi-Wan. 

Drawing on the Force to push his unrelenting pace faster than he could ever think possible, Anakin heard the clash of lightsabers even before he reached the battleground. Obi-Wan was currently dueling Ventress in the middle of a small clearing surrounded by heavy boulders, cool and unbothered even as Ventress’ lightsabers clashed violently with his. Anakin’s heart unclenched itself with relief that at least Obi-Wan was okay - what was he thinking, _of course_ Obi-Wan would be okay, his Master was practically undefeated in Soresu combat - and he ignited his lightsaber, rushing in to join the battle. 

Ventress noticed the arrival of a new presence and landed a heavy, desperate blow that knocked Obi-Wan against a tree, disorienting him for a few seconds. One crimson blade swung up to meet Anakin’s brilliant blue blade, and the other swung to cleanly chop across the trunk of a medium-sized tree. A foot came up to meet Anakin’s midsection, taking advantage of the close distance between them, and Anakin was kicked backward directly into the path of the falling tree. 

It was heavy enough to pin his entire body down, immobilizing him as Ventress turned back to block Obi-Wan’s attack - the man had recovered enough to engage her once more. Anakin grunted, panicking slightly, his mind shouting at him that Obi-Wan needed help, _now!_ and focused on wiggling his way out underneath the tree. 

At least he could still feel his legs, and it didn’t feel like anything was broken, but they were definitely numb and Luminara would definitely be tending to egg-sized bruises later in the medbay. Anakin called his lightsaber to him, which had been knocked out of his hand when the tree had fallen on top of him, and chopped the trunk into large blocks, using the Force to lift them off him. 

He turned his head to check on Obi-Wan, and his blood ran cold. 

Ventress had managed to pin Obi-Wan down against a large boulder. His blue blade was blocking both of hers, positioned dangerously close to his neck, and she was putting her full body weight pressing her lightsabers to keep him down, standing _so close_ to him…

“You know,” Ventress smirked, almost flirtatiously, “there’s also a bounty on your head, Master Kenobi. Not offering as much as for the Alderaanian Senator, of course, but still a sizable amount to keep me comfortable for a while.” Her blades pressed his closer to his neck, and Obi-Wan winced as the plasma singed his skin slightly. “Unfortunately for you, they want you alive.” 

The Dathomirian leaned her face close to Obi-Wan’s, and Anakin could barely hear her next few words over the pounding in his ears. “And if I can’t have the Senator, then you’re _mine._ ” 

Anakin saw red.

This witch was calling Obi-Wan _hers?_

He sent the chunks of tree which he’d been levitating flying toward Ventress, and Ventress had to disengage her blades from Obi-Wan’s and leap out of the way to avoid being hit. She landed, panting slightly, but had to immediately bring up her blades to block Anakin’s one. 

Rage sang in his veins, and Anakin moved faster than he ever had in this unbelievably hot and humid climate, his lightsaber slashing at her so fast it was just a whirr of blue light. Ventress had now stopped attacking and could only go on the defensive, blocking his attacks clumsily as he landed one hit after another. Had Anakin slowed down, he would have noticed that the smirk had been wiped off her face, and he also would have noticed the change in her stance and the fact that she was now struggling to keep up with her attacks. As it was, the anger coursed through him and he let it guide his actions, fighting off the assassin who had been so _stupid_ as to claim Obi-Wan as _hers._

“Anakin!” He heard faintly behind him, his Master’s voice laced with concern, and Anakin stopped the onslaught for the barest of moments, his Master’s voice quelling some of the rage within him. 

Ventress was smart enough to take the opportunity to knock Anakin off to side and flee, this time not leaving with a sarcastic remark or a snide comment. Anakin growled and made to go after her, but by now Obi-Wan had reached him and grasped his arm tightly. 

“Anakin!” Obi-Wan panted, bringing his hands to his former Padawan’s face, and Anakin realized that his anger was leaking through their unsevered training bond. 

He looked at his former Master, only now noticing the genuine concern on Obi-Wan’s face, and the small cauterized burn on Obi-Wan’s neck, still lightly smoking.

“Anakin, don’t lose yourself,” Obi-Wan murmured, and Anakin felt the last traces of rage within him vanish, like the flame on a lit matchstick does when you blow it out. Exhausted from the exertion of fighting Ventress, he slumped to the ground, panting heavily. Obi-Wan was okay.

“She got away,” he mumbled weakly, and Obi-Wan did something he never thought his former Master would ever have done - he crushed Anakin _to his chest_ in a rough embrace. 

Anakin quickly checked his shields, very determined to not let Obi-Wan know exactly how _hard_ his heart was pounding.

“No mission is worth giving in to the Dark Side,” he heard Obi-Wan say, and Anakin closed his eyes, nodding slowly and just cherishing the moment while it lasted. 

“Are you okay?” He asked when Obi-Wan had finally released him - oh, how he wished Obi-Wan wrapped him in his arms more often - moving to check Obi-Wan for any injuries other than the one on his neck.

“I’m fine, Anakin,” Obi-Wan smiled reassuringly. He turned to look at where Ventress had disappeared into the distance with a frown, but the assassin was probably long gone by now and it would be too late to chase after her. “We should get back to the Senator. I don’t think she will give up so easily.” 

Anakin nodded, his mind still thrumming with _how dare she_ s and _my Master, mine!_ but obediently followed Obi-Wan as they traced their steps back to the Senator’s palace. Obi-Wan was talking about how they would have to send another mission update to the Council, but Anakin wasn’t listening, his mind far away elsewhere. No doubt if he slipped up like this again, it would only earn him another lecture on control from his Master and another couple of compulsory, _long_ meditation sessions. 

He sighed and added possessiveness of Obi-Wan to his list of repressed feelings.


	2. Garen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everybody who has commented so far, it was really encouraging to see all your support! If you have any constructive feedback, I would really love to hear it! <3

There was no reason for Anakin to have a problem with sharing. 

Looking back at his childhood, he’d grown up on Tatooine poor, the son of a slave. While Watto ensured they certainly did not starve, what little food they had he’d always shared with his mother, always giving her an extra piece or two of his bread to make sure she had enough energy for the next day’s work. His podracing winnings were sometimes given to those of his friends who lived in even worse conditions than he did, if that was even possible. Heck, even when he’d been made a Jedi and started going on missions, resources were always scarce, and more often than not Anakin Skywalker found himself huddled with his Master in less-than-ideal survival conditions, sharing warmth, Force energies, and what little field rations they’d been issued. Anakin Skywalker had never been a selfish man.

So why couldn’t he share _Obi-Wan?_

Okay, if he looked back again differently, maybe it was because he’d been an only child. His mother, when she wasn’t working for Watto in the daytime, had all her attention on him since the day he was born. And even when he’d moved to the Jedi Temple and been assigned to Obi-Wan, the rule had always been that there could be only one Master to one Padawan at any time to ensure effective mentorship. If Obi-Wan’s attention was not focused on accomplishing a mission, then the rest of the time it was focused on him, training him, counseling him, bringing him up. 

Ah. Maybe he could see how he’d begun to have a sharing problem. 

It was the day of the showcase. Every year, a single day would be selected for the of-age younglings to showcase their lightsaber skills for the Temple’s Jedi Knights in the hopes that some Knights would decide to take them on as Padawans. Anakin had never had the chance to take part, having been brought to the Temple when he was much older than the other younglings, but as a Knight he’d always liked to attend the showcase. Not to take on another Padawan, though, he already had Ahsoka, but he just liked to watch the sparring matches. Well…after the matches there was also usually a grand dinner held for all the attending Jedi Knights and the younglings, giving them an opportunity to interact with each other, but Anakin usually showed up just for the food.

His attention was supposed to be on the sparring Padawans in front of him, but Anakin found his mind drifting to Obi-Wan, who was sitting just beside him. This was the first year they attended the showcase together since the Clone Wars had started. 

“You seem distracted,” Obi-Wan murmured, not taking his eyes off the duelers. 

Dammit, how had he known? “Yeah. Thinking about how Ahsoka would have done if she’d been the one sparring.”

“Your Padawan is quite advanced in her lightsaber technique for her age,” Obi-Wan said. “I wouldn’t worry.” 

Anakin puffed his chest. Of course Ahsoka would be one of the best for her age, _he’d_ been training her. Not to mention that she was one of the most hardworking Padawans he’d ever seen, and had even opted to skip out of the showcase to go practice her katas. He was very proud of her.

“How’d _you_ think I would have fared if I had taken part, Master?”

Obi-Wan smiled. “Are you fishing for compliments, Anakin?”

“No,” Anakin shrugged innocently. “Just wondering.”

They watched the match for a little while longer, the buzz of training lightsabers clashing against each other filling the hall. Two minutes later, one of the younglings had managed to knock the other’s saber out of his hand, and Master Windu - the umpire - announced the end of the match. Both combatants bowed to each other gracefully, and then to the audience, and left the sparring ground. 

As Master Yoda called for the next set of combatants to please prepare themselves, a handsome Jedi Knight entered the spectators’ area, limping slightly, double-taking when his eyes fell upon Obi-Wan. 

“Obi-Wan? Is that you?”

“Garen Muln!” Obi-Wan stood up, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled at this man, clapping him on the shoulder as if he was meeting a long-lost friend. 

This newcomer had black hair, shorn short; a warrior’s build, lean but muscled; and dimples - which Anakin had to reluctantly admit were rather attractive. He watched as Obi-Wan embraced this - this _Garen_ , Anakin thought with distaste - both of them grinning widely. 

Obi-Wan did not go around hugging just _anybody._ Heck, Anakin had never even seen him hug Bant Eerin, whom Anakin was _pretty sure_ was Obi-Wan’s oldest friend. Who was this Knight, and why was he acting like he was his Master’s best friend?

 _I’M Obi-Wan’s best friend,_ Anakin sulked.

“I haven’t seen you in ages,” Obi-Wan said, still smiling when they ended the hug. Both men still had an arm placed over each other’s shoulders, and Anakin wondered if they really had to have all this _unnecessary touching?_ “Not since Saleucami.” 

“Ah, you know how it is with the war now. Getting shipped out every other week.” Garen smiled - a devastatingly handsome smile, damn it! - and _ruffled_ Obi-Wan’s hair. 

_Are you kidding me?_ He’d half-expected Obi-Wan to snap, but his Master not only tolerated the hair-tousling, but even laughed along with it. He’d never seen anybody even _touch_ Obi-Wan’s perfectly arranged auburn hair before, and was pretty sure he’d be frowned at if he even attempted to do so. 

“But hey, I’m back now, at least for a short while.” Garen shifted slightly, sticking out a bandaged foot to show Obi-Wan. “Had a small accident on the Outer Rim. I’ve been prescribed light activity for the next week.” 

Too bad he hadn’t been prescribed bed rest, Anakin thought. 

“Ah. How unfortunate.” Obi-Wan didn’t sound sad in the least. “It’s great to see you again, though.”

“Agreed. War does make for happy reunions.” Garen’s eyes finally shifted over to Anakin, who had been watching them for the past minute, and he blushed, realizing that he had been staring the whole time like a creep. Thankfully, Obi-Wan broke the awkwardness for him. 

“Oh, Garen! This is Anakin Skywalker, my former Padawan and now a Knight himself.” Anakin preened, hearing the obvious pride in Obi-Wan’s voice as he spoke of him.

“I’ve heard much about you,” Garen said, this time directing his striking smile toward Anakin. “Especially after that Cato Nemoidia skirmish. I have to say, you handled that brilliantly, though. Pleasure to meet you, Knight Skywalker.” 

“Pleasure to meet you, too,” Anakin grit out, hoping he didn’t sound too obviously agitated. 

“Anakin, this is Garen Muln,” Obi-Wan smiled at the newcomer, and Anakin noticed both men still had their arms draped over each other. “We were in the creche together, and later we were also Padawan batchmates.” 

“Oh, those were good times. We got up to a lot of fun together, remember?” Garen smiled mischievously at Obi-Wan, and Anakin tried very hard not to think about what Garen could mean when he used the word _fun_.

“Let’s not give him any ideas,” Obi-Wan chided jokingly. “Anakin’s gotten himself into enough trouble over the years already.” 

“Hey!”

“Perhaps we should catch up later,” Garen suggested, watching as the next two duelers took their places on the sparring mat. “Maybe you could be my date for the post-showcase dinner?”

 _His_ date?

Anakin clenched his fists and turned away quickly before either man could notice his growing scowl, reminding himself that doing ‘fresher cleanup duty for Mace Windu was _not_ worth striking a fellow Knight. 

“Of course, Garen,” Obi-Wan’s smooth voice replied, and Anakin scowled harder. He was pretty sure he’d been doing so much frowning in the past five minutes that the frown lines were already permanently etched onto his face. Not only had this Garen Muln dared to proposition _his_ Master, but Obi-Wan had also _not_ rejected him? What was going on?

“I’ll see you, then,” he heard Garen say, and then the sound of some shuffling as both men most likely embraced each other again - did they _have_ to keep hugging? Why couldn’t this _stupid_ Garen keep his hands to himself? - and then the blissful sound of Garen’s retreating footsteps, the other Knight _finally_ leaving. 

Obi-Wan chuckled as he took his seat back next to Anakin, not noticing his former Padawan’s thunderous mood. “Well, that was unexpected.” 

_Unexpected and unwelcome,_ Anakin wanted to spit out, but reigned back. 

He'd worked so hard to be on the receiving end of Obi-Wan's rare displays of affection, and yet this Garen Muln suddenly swooped in for five minutes and Obi-Wan was already smiling at him? Anakin's stomach churned with jealousy as he remembered Obi-Wan bestowing his dazzling smile on this undeserving Garen. 

This was his Master, _his!_ Anakin had been with Obi-Wan for more than ten years, now, and during this entire period he'd never so much as heard of the name _Garen Muln._ How dare this human suddenly come back and steal Obi-Wan's attention away from him?

Maybe if he faked a really bad stomachache after the sparring matches, Obi-Wan would cancel going to the dinner to stay in and take care of him. Maybe the Council would have a sudden, important mission for the Team right after the sparring matches and _whoops, sorry Garen,_ they wouldn’t be able to make the dinner. Maybe if he set fire to the Jedi Temple, everybody would be forced to evacuate and then the dinner would _definitely_ be cancelled. Maybe if he pointed out Garen’s obvious advances to his usually oblivious former Master, Obi-Wan would realize how much of a violation that was to the Jedi Code and avoid the stupidly handsome Knight like the plague.

“He was flirting with you, you know,” Anakin said quietly, deciding that arson was not worth it.

“Oh, that?” Obi-Wan did not even sound bothered. “That’s just Garen. He’s always been like that since we were young.” 

“Has it ever occurred to you it’s because he likes you?” Anakin raised an eyebrow. 

“Oh, Anakin, definitely not!” Obi-Wan chuckled quietly. “Garen’s just one of my oldest friends, that’s all. He’s like that to _all_ his close friends, trust me. He does it with Bant, too.”

That relaxed Anakin slightly. “Oh.” 

But still! Obi-Wan would be spending the whole post-showcase dinner talking to that stupid Garen, probably some inside joke that Anakin was not privy to, and Anakin would be left all alone. Obi-Wan hadn’t attended last year’s post-showcase dinner, and Anakin had ended up being forced to awkwardly make small talk with Master Mundi. Not that he had anything against the Cerean, but they had almost nothing in common…Anakin was a human, and Master Mundi had, like, two brains and two hearts, or something. This was the first time in a while Obi-Wan would be attending the dinner with him, and Anakin wanted nothing more than just to spend time with his former Master as he stuffed his face.

For a moment Anakin considered just skipping out on the dinner altogether, but he remembered they were catering Meiloorun fruit this year, which were his absolute _favorite_.

Obi-Wan seemed to sense something was off, and patted Anakin’s thigh gently. “Don’t worry, Anakin. We’ll still sit together at the dinner. I hear Aayla Secura brought back chocolate truffles from her last mission on Canto Bight.” 

Anakin perked up. Those _did_ sound delicious. 

He supposed he could tolerate just _one_ night of having to share Obi-Wan with that stupid Garen Muln.


	3. Xanatos

Anakin glanced at his chronometer irritatedly, for the fourth time in the past five minutes.

This karking parade seemed to be going on _forever,_ and Anakin had been standing up for three hours straight already. It was the stupid annual celebration of Coruscant’s founding, and for the past three years since he’d been a Knight Anakin had somehow managed to wriggle his way out of Jedi patrol duty. But Mace Windu had personally chased him down this year and scribbled his name on the roster, and Anakin had no choice but to show up.

Patrol duty was _boring._ His job scope was just to make sure there was no pushing and shoving, make sure the landspeeders were kept away from the pedestrians and all that dull safety duty crap - what was the point of sending Jedi to do all this? He could have sent _Artoo_ in his place to do it. This job literally required no brain and/or skill. But Windu had insisted that it would be good publicity for the Jedi to show up - some _keepers of the peace_ bantha crap again, Anakin thought. 

It was honestly just a waste of manpower. Ninety-five percent of the non-offworld Jedi had been deployed for this stupid parade - didn’t they have more important things to do?

Maybe if it had just been patrol duty, Anakin could have sucked it up for another two more hours, and then gone back to his apartment to spend the rest of the night in front of the holonet with some Corellian rum, but as it was he found himself fretting and fidgeting, his mind drifting to his former Master. 

Obi-Wan had returned from a short solo mission two days prior, but had caught some kind of flu coming back from the Outer Rim. The Healers who had done his initial post-mission checkup hadn’t been able to detect it at first, but half an hour later, when Obi-Wan had collapsed in their shared apartment and a frantic Anakin had carried him bridal-style to the Halls of Healing, Vokara Che had finally confirmed the infection’s presence.

“It’s not contagious, Skywalker, you can stay around him,” the Twi’lek healer had assured him, _as if_ Anakin was going to stay away from his Master just because of some contagious flu bug. “It only binds to those who are genetically predisposed to catching it. The symptoms are, unfortunately, very strong. High fever, chills, cough and nausea - Master Kenobi will need to be taken off the mission roster for the next two weeks while he recovers.” 

Obi-Wan had grumbled, but was unable to argue with _both_ Anakin and Master Che - mainly because he was too busy hacking up a lung to protest. Vokara Che had been right - the onset of symptoms had been extremely rapid, and Anakin had spent the first day hovering over Obi-Wan while his former Master violently threw up what little food he ate. 

By the second day his fever had hit forty degrees, and Anakin had spent practically the whole day in the rickety chair beside Obi-Wan’s bed, refilling the ice-bag to press to his forehead. His poor, tired former Master hadn’t moved much the whole day, spending his time mostly sleeping. In the short snatches of time that Obi-Wan was awake, however, he’d done nothing much other than weakly squeeze Anakin’s hand to assure his fussing former apprentice that he was okay. Needless to say, Anakin certainly hadn’t slept well the past few days.

Vokara Che had warned him that the fever could keep climbing before it gradually went down, and on the morning of the parade Anakin had woken up beside a moaning, barely-conscious Obi-Wan, whose most recent temperature taken by the healer on duty read forty-one degrees.

Obi-Wan _needed him,_ and this stupid parade was just wasting his time. Nothing that required his attention had happened so far - the civilians had been orderly and pleasant, adhering to all the traffic rules and keeping themselves out of harm’s way. Anakin was pretty sure all this Jedi patrol nonsense was just a ruse to get the Jedi to show their faces in the Coruscant streets for once instead of always keeping to the Temple. 

A sudden rush of pain flooded his bond with Obi-Wan - _Sithspit!_ \- and Anakin nearly doubled over in shock. 

_Obi-Wan!_

Something was wrong. Anakin snapped his fingers to get Ahsoka’s attention, who was standing just at the next intersection about five meters away.

“Obi-Wan’s in danger,” he yelled by way of explanation, barely waiting for Ahsoka to nod in acknowledgement, her face rapidly paling, before abandoning his post to run back to the Temple.

Of course Obi-Wan would get himself into danger even when he was off the mission roster, Anakin thought as he raced back, taking the shortest route he knew to the Temple. In his haste, he brushed past civilians and nearly knocked a cursing Toydarian off his speeder, but Anakin couldn’t stop. He _knew_ it would be a bad idea to do this stupid parade duty when Obi-Wan was sick, he knew it! Obi-Wan _needed_ Anakin - how could he have been so stupid as to leave his former Master this morning?

If something happened to Obi-Wan…

Anakin prayed hard to the Force, running ever faster.

\---

The smallest of sounds roused Obi-Wan. 

He blinked, head still pounding from the fever, eyes still bleary from sleep. Slowly, the world shifted into focus, and he could feel the soft beeping of the machines beside him monitoring his heartbeat and his temperature. A few of Vokara Che’s healing crystals were affixed to the bed railings, glowing softly as they helped take away some of his pain. The rickety old chair which Anakin usually sat on was now empty, and Obi-Wan frowned, confused - not that he was protesting, but it usually took planet-wide catastrophes to drag Anakin away from him when he was injured. Outside his ward, there wasn’t the usual sound of healers bustling about tending to their Jedi patients - just discomforting quiet. 

There was some event today, he could remember Anakin telling him yesterday night, in the last few moments before he’d lost unconsciousness once more, succumbing to the fever. 

Well, it wasn’t like he was complaining. Anakin needed to get the fresh air; he couldn’t stay cooped up with Obi-Wan the whole day. 

The Force nudged him gently, and there was that soft sound of footsteps once more! Not as if someone was trying to move quietly so that they wouldn’t disturb the patients - but more of someone who was trying to move around the Temple stealthily. 

Obi-Wan sat up painfully, swinging his legs off to the side of the bed. His vision blurred rapidly from the sudden movement, so he was forced to take a few seconds to breathe shakily as his eyesight slowly cleared. 

He swiped his lightsaber off the bedside table and clipped it to his belt. He hoped he wouldn’t need it. 

Obi-Wan took a shaky first step away from the bed. He felt as if he were drunk; his legs were trembling and his body was swaying slightly. His knees threatened to buckle, but Obi-Wan quickly stabilized himself with the wall. The small effort of standing up already had him panting, and he cursed this stupid Mon Cala flu.

Shuffling out of his room and using the walls as support, Obi-Wan followed the source of the shuffling footsteps out of the Halls of Healing and into the adjacent Jedi vaults. Nausea roiled in his stomach with every step he took, but Obi-Wan had already purged everything out of his system after dinner the previous night, leaving his empty stomach constricting painfully. His legs threatened to give way the minute he stood upright, so Obi-Wan kept a hand on the walls and moved along, slowly and not very steadily. 

The Force brushed his mind, warning him. Whoever was in the Jedi vaults had picked a perfect time to infiltrate the Temple - with most, if not all of the Jedi gone, and nobody but a terribly sick Jedi Master to defend it. 

Obi-Wan unclipped his lightsaber, and peered into the vaults. 

A shadowy figure stood at the far end, examining each of the Force-protected vault doors. This intruder had his back to Obi-Wan, but he was tall, and leanly muscled. A lightsaber hilt dangled from his belt, smacking his hip softly every time the intruder moved. 

“It’s not nice to sneak into people’s homes uninvited,” Obi-Wan said, trying to sound snarky but only realizing after he’d spoken that his voice had become low and rough from the infection, phlegm coating the sides of his throat. 

The shadowy figure startled and whirled around, igniting his lightsaber. Obi-Wan’s eyes widened when he saw who it was.

“Xanatos,” he snarled, fumbling for his lightsaber. His fingers felt thick and clumsy, but eventually after a few embarrassing tries he’d managed to get it off his belt and thumbed the switch.

“Obi-Wan,” Xanatos smiled, baring his teeth menacingly. 

He looked the disheveled Jedi Master up and down, and laughed loudly, dropping his lightsaber to his side. Evidently, he did not think Obi-Wan a threat. “You don’t look too good.” 

Obi-Wan was aware he did not make an intimidating sight, especially when he was leaning against the wall instead of assuming an offensive stance and his lightsaber was threatening to slip out of his sweaty hands. Still, he lifted his aching arms, ignoring as his body screamed from the slight physical exertion, and raised his lightsaber over his head, hoping he looked challenging enough. 

“Well, now that you’re here,” Xanatos shrugged, “you can help me find what I’ve been looking for.” 

“I don’t recall the Jedi Temple confiscating anything that belonged to you, Xanatos,” Obi-Wan said, doing his best to remain upright. 

“Nothing that belonged to me, certainly, but something that a client of mine would pay a lot for.” Xanatos took a few steps toward Obi-Wan, his hungry eyes fixed on the Jedi Master. “I’m looking for a holocron, stored somewhere in here. It’s labelled as artifact number seven and can be retrieved only by a member of the Jedi Council.” 

The Dark Jedi licked his lips. “And - how convenient! I happen to have found a Jedi Master right here.” 

“You’re delusional if you think I’ll ever help you willingly,” Obi-Wan retorted.

“Willingly?” Xanatos laughed - when had he gotten so close to Obi-Wan? - and raised his lightsaber, pointing it at the Jedi Master. “I would have expected nothing of the sort.” 

Obi-Wan’s thighs were trembling and his head was pounding, but he still raised his lightsaber to meet Xanatos’ golden blade. 

He hoped he survived this.

\---

_Jedi vaults,_ the Force screamed at him as Anakin barreled through the entrance of the Jedi Temple.

He couldn’t even be bothered to take the stairs one at a time. Anakin leapt down each flight, using the Force to ensure he landed without injury - _why_ did the Jedi Temple have to be built with so many _kriffing stairs?_ \- and hurtled through the Halls of Healing, not even bothering to check if Obi-Wan was in his room. He followed his Master’s Force presence - already starting to fade, _hang in there Obi-Wan!_ \- and leapt over several of the empty healers’ stations in his haste to get to the vaults. Equipment toppled _everywhere_ and Anakin was pretty sure he broke a few decorative vases adorning the sides of the Halls of Healing, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

Without even bothering to check the situation, Anakin ignited his lightsaber the minute he skidded into the vault room, pointing it at the intruder _reeking_ of the Dark Side. 

Xanatos had knocked Obi-Wan’s lightsaber out of his hands, and the weapon had rolled to the other side of the room, out of the Jedi Master’s reach. Right now, the Dark Jedi held Obi-Wan pressed against his chest, his ignited lightsaber hovering threateningly at Obi-Wan’s throat, and his mouth set in a feral grin. 

“Anakin Skywalker,” the Dark Jedi drawled. 

Anakin ignored him, eyes immediately scanning Obi-Wan over - and his heart sank when he saw that his former Master definitely _did not_ look good. 

Obi-Wan was pale, sweating, his eyes half-lidded and barely aware of Anakin’s presence as he slumped in Xanatos’ grip. Being pressed against the Dark Jedi in a captive’s hold was the only reason he was still upright. His hands were weakly clutching at Xanatos’ vice-grip on his chin, his fingers trembling. Multiple minor lightsaber burns charred his tunic, and Anakin could see purpling bruises were already starting to form on his exposed legs and hands - Xanatos must have spared no mercy, even though Obi-Wan was too sick to put up a fair fight. A particularly deep lightsaber burn scarred the skin near his eye - a mark quite resembling Anakin’s - cauterizing the skin perfectly. It was not close enough to Obi-Wan’s eye to blind him, but deep enough that no healer would be able to close the scar fully. 

Rage bubbled under Anakin’s skin. 

“Let him go,” Anakin growled. It took all he had not to shout. 

Xanatos smiled. “One wrong move, Skywalker, and I cut Obi-Wan’s voice box out from his throat.”

Anakin grit his teeth. His eyes fell to Obi-Wan, whose chest shook with every rattled breath he took. His heart ached, and he knew there was no way he could risk Obi-Wan’s life. Who knew what this blasted Dark Jedi could do?

He de-activated his lightsaber, making a show of dropping it to the floor, holding his hands upright. 

Xanatos smiled approvingly. “Perfect.”

One of the vault doors hung open - Anakin realized Xanatos must have used Obi-Wan’s Council clearance to help him gain access - and there was a small pyramidal object poking out of Xanatos’ inner cloak pocket. Whatever Xanatos had come for, he had already got it. Anakin was the only one preventing him from doing the only thing he needed to do to finish his mission - escape. 

“Ana…kin?” Obi-Wan’s voice was weak, and his eyes were nearly closed, but somehow he could still sense his former Padawan. Anakin pushed as much calm and reassurance as he could through their bond, his heart aching, and focused his gaze on Xanatos. Obi-Wan was in no state to be a hostage. Star’s end, Obi-Wan wasn’t even in a state to be standing up.

“As feisty as I remember,” Xanatos remarked, dragging Obi-Wan’s nearly-limp body toward the exit. Anakin circled him warily, still not daring to attack.

He turned back to Anakin, lightsaber still dangerously close to Obi-Wan’s throat. Anakin didn’t like how Xanatos’ hungry eyes were fixated on his former Master. “I’ve heard all about your attachment to your Master, Skywalker. I’ve heard about you got distracted on Felucia, and how you let General Grievious get away because you wanted to save Obi-Wan.” 

Anakin glared at him, not quite sure what Xanatos was getting at. 

“And I wondered, why would anybody allow themselves to form such a burdensome attachment, when it was only going to serve as a weakness?” Xanatos’ lips curled into an evil smile. “And now I see him for myself, up close in person, and I just have to say, what a _lovely_ specimen he is.”

Anakin growled. _No one_ was allowed to take Obi-Wan away from him!

“I would love to keep him for myself,” Xanatos continued, even though his hungry eyes hadn’t moved off Obi-Wan, and now it seemed like he was just speaking to his barely-conscious captive. 

Anakin’s hands clenched slowly, the dragon in his chest threatening to let loose.

“Make you _mine_ ,” Xanatos murmured in Obi-Wan’s ear, moving his face close to his captive and _licking_ a stripe up Obi-Wan’s pale face. 

Anakin lost all coherent thought. 

“Yoda’s tauntaun!” He shrieked, as Obi-Wan’s cerulean eyes widened fractionally, registering the codeword behind the seemingly nonsensical phrase. Xanatos’ grip on Obi-Wan was loose, his guard let down especially since Obi-Wan had been too weak to struggle much earlier, so Obi-Wan mustered the last of his strength to call upon the Force to quickly grab and push Xanatos’ lightsaber away, ducking out of the Dark Jedi’s grip and landing painfully with an audible _splat_ on the floor. 

Anakin caught Xanatos’ lightsaber and quickly swung it at his Dark Jedi’s side, wounding him. Xanatos cried out, dropping to the ground and writhing in pain, and Anakin tore the pyramidal holocron from his pocket. 

The wound was deep, and Xanatos wouldn’t be running anywhere for the time being. Now it was Anakin’s turn to lock his mechanical arm in a vice-grip around the Dark Jedi’s neck, firm enough that Xanatos wouldn’t be able to escape, but loose enough that the karker would still have enough air to breathe. He yanked Xanatos’ trembling body off the ground, raising him till they were face to face and he could look into the pain-filled traitor’s eyes. 

This kriffing idiot had hurt his Master and very nearly stole him away. What right did he have to lay claim over Obi-Wan? 

Dimly, Anakin was aware that he’d been acting like an alpha nexu establishing his claim over a female nexu, protecting her from being stolen away by another alpha male. Obi-Wan wasn’t a female nexu, he knew that. But his instincts to _protect_ his Master and shield him from other competitors vying to try their shot was overwhelming all other rational thought. 

“Obi-Wan is _my_ Master,” he snarled to the competing male.

Anakin would have continued his tirade about how Obi-Wan belonged to him, him and _only him!_ \- and how no Darksider would ever come close to laying claim on _his_ Master, but was unfortunately interrupted by the sudden arrival of Master Windu and Master Fisto, who already had their lightsabers out. 

Windu powered his lightsaber down the minute he noticed Xanatos had been disarmed, nodding approvingly at Anakin. “Good job, Skywalker.”

“We’ll take it from here,” Kit Fisto assured Anakin. “Go take care of Master Kenobi.” 

Anakin handed the groaning infiltrator over to the two Council members and turned his attention back on Obi-Wan, who was wheezing from the exertion of getting out of Xanatos’ grip. Obi-Wan’s skin was ice-cold to the touch and moaning softly in pain from the lightsaber wound near his eye, and Anakin’s heart filled with sorrow. He wished he had been faster to detect Obi-Wan was in danger - no, actually, he wished he had never left Obi-Wan’s side. 

“Ani?” Obi-Wan murmured, nearly inaudible. 

“Master, you’re okay,” Anakin soothed - whether he was reassuring himself or Obi-Wan he wasn’t too sure, picking Obi-Wan up gently and settling his former Master against his chest. “Xanatos has been apprehended. I’m going to bring you back to the Halls of Healing, now.” 

“Ah.” Obi-Wan nuzzled into Anakin’s chest very adorably, and Anakin’s heart melted at the sight. He should have known it would take Obi-Wan being seriously ill and held captive to bring out his cuddly side. 

“Well…done, Ana…kin.” 

He’d always put a disproportionate amount of weight on Obi-Wan’s praise relative to praise coming from any other person, and Anakin’s heart sang, knowing his Master was all right and still proud of him. They’d talk about how stupidly self-sacrificing he was later, Anakin wouldn’t forget that, but he allowed himself this precious moment of cherishing the warm weight of Obi-Wan in his arms.

He reached out with the Force, and found Obi-Wan in no immediate danger of dying. It was okay. Obi-Wan would be okay.

Maybe Obi-Wan was too out of it to realize, but Anakin pressed a gentle kiss to his Master’s forehead, thanking the Force that everything had worked out _just nice_ today.


End file.
